Hardtalk
by Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Summary: Will sparks fly between an investigative journalist, with an axe to grind against the military, and a career soldier, who serves that same military with pride? (Romance genre, though nothing happens for quite a while. It's a slow build up. Just so you know...)
1. Chapter 1

_A/N – Some of you may have read the two one-shot stories I've written for Shepard and Khalisah. Always thinking of new and different things to write, I thought I'd put together a story pairing these two. If read the two one-shots, they will be referenced in this story (if not added as a chapter later on.)_

 _I'm not sure how many chapters this will last, and the chapters won't be too long. No more than a couple of thousand words at most. Starts pre-ME1 and will go all the way to post-ME3 eventually._

* * *

"So, what do you know about him?" Emily asked, pouring some milk into her coffee.

"No more than anyone else. Information released by the Alliance is paltry at best," she replied.

Khalisah flicked through the binder they had all been given. His service photo was on the cover. _He does have a certain rugged handsomeness I suppose. And I do like blue eyes._ But inside, information was sparse. They knew his birth-date, his current rank, and where he had served, though even half of that was missing. Any personal information – parents, siblings, hometown, anything to do about the man himself – was either classified or missing.

"Well, I guess this news conference will help us fill in some of the blanks," Emily suggested.

"Why now, though? I would have thought the Alliance would have put him front and centre after Elysium," she wondered, the pair walked back into the conference room, taking a seat side by side. Many other reporters were taking up position around them. Mostly human, but there were one or two asari and turian reporters setting up. To the rear were cameras, while in front was a lone podium, a few seats behind the podium, with flags of the Alliance to either side.

"He was badly injured, Khalisah. I mean, if the reports are to be believed, he stopped an attack by himself, stopping the last of the invaders by hand."

"They could have presented him afterwards. But not a word. Sure, a lot of nice words from the Alliance itself, and there are the photos of him being give the Star of Terra, but no press conferences, no interviews, no anything. He's an enigma."

"You'll get your chance now. Particularly after what's happened…"

"He must have been involved in it all for them to put him in front of us now."

There was plenty of conversation around them as everyone waited for the arrival of Lieutenant Shepard and whoever else would be joining him. She was rather interested to hear what he had to say about certain events it was known he was involved in. And, as usual, she would go for the jugular. She had a reputation to uphold, after all.

All conversations stopped immediately as a man everyone recognised, Captain David Anderson, appeared through a side door, striding forward towards the podium. Following immediately behind him was Lieutenant John Shepard, walking alongside Major Nathan Kyle and Admiral Steven Hackett, the three chatting quietly as they took a seat on one of the chairs behind them.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Anderson began, "I'm sure you already have a million and one questions as to why you're gathered here today. The first bit of news is that the Alliance has completed operations on the batarian moon of Torfan. For those of you who don't remember, the raid on Torfan was in retaliation to the events that took place above and on Elysium in 2176. The Alliance was prepared to leave much of the information regarding both events classified, but believe transparency will help understanding of what happened. The man who will soon be front and centre was at the forefront of events on both Elysium and Torfan. The binder you may currently have is short on detail. It is hoped that during this conference you may learn more about the man himself." Anderson gestured Shepard towards the podium. "Therefore, it is my pleasure to introduce to you Lieutenant John Shepard."

He walked forward confidently, perhaps not realising he was approaching a pool of sharks, who would sense blood if he made the slightest of errors. Khalisah wasn't aware that he'd ever held a single interview, or spoke at a press conference before, and she had searched the extranet for any information.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Shepard stated, "As you already know my name, I could stand here and go over my life story for you, but I don't think that will be interesting for any of us. So I will open the floor to questions immediately. As Captain Anderson just stated, nothing is off-limits, though if you hear a cleared throat behind me from Admiral Hackett, that will be a suggestion that I am careful with how I respond. So, the floor is open."

The first few questions were as she expected. Surprisingly, nothing about his early life, all about his service, with plenty of focus on his time on Elysium. They were being too respectful, even from Emily beside her, whose question left her groaning. Finally, she'd had enough, and her hand shot up, hoping to grab his attention. It took another two questions, but he finally gestured in her direction. "You have a question, ma'am?"

"Yes, I do, Lieutenant. Khalisah al-Jilani, Westerlund News. Reports from events on Torfan suggest that the Alliance was brutal in their treatment of batarian prisoners, and that you alone are responsible for the murder of numerous batarians who had surrendered, and instead of being treated as an apparent war hero, you should be arrested and tried as a war criminal. How do you respond to those claims?"

She expected a glare and a dismissive answer. Instead, he glanced back to the Captain and Admiral seated behind him, noticing both nodded their heads. Turning back to face the crowd of reports, he stood at near attention, hands behind his back, as he started to reply.

"None of you have asked me yet, so I will tell you where I am from. I am a child of Mindoir." The whispers and exclamations of surprise started immediately. "My family owned a small farm on one of the many colonies that dotted Mindoir itself. We were not rich, but we were happy. It was hardly idyllic, as life is hard on a colony world. But we survived… until the batarians came. I was sixteen years old when I watched my mother and father, my older brother and little sister, my uncles, my aunts, my cousins, my friends from school, friends down the road, everyone I knew. I watched all of them be butchered or taken away as slaves."

"How did you survive?" someone called out behind her.

"They left me for dead. I could show you the scar where they shot me, but this isn't show and tell. I was lucky to survive. It was only thanks to the Alliance that I'm here today, as it was their medical treatment that helped me live, and I made a vow from that day that I would serve as soon as I was of age.

My next meeting with batarians was on Elysium, when a pirate gang, back by batarian paymasters, invaded a human colony. I had only served four years by that time, but there was no way I was going to let Elysium be another Mindoir. So I fought and bled, ensuring the colony and the people within survived, and those who invaded paid with their lives."

"Were you injured?" a voice asked.

"I was, though not seriously or critically. Just enough to put me out of action for a couple of months. The Alliance gave me a nice medal, but I wasn't the only hero on that day." He smirked. "But I guess the Alliance did need its poster boy." There were a few chuckles in the audience. Even the men behind him managed to crack a smile. _God, he's good at this. This can't be his first interview or press conference._

And then he looked directly at her. "In direct response to your question, Miss al-Jilanai, the batarians on Torfan received exactly what they deserved. There were no innocent batarians on that moon. They were all pirates or mercenaries. More importantly, they were all criminals, and I wouldn't be surprised if quite a few of them were involved in the invasion of Elysium two years prior. It was not murder. It was war. In war, you might bleed but you make sure the other bastard dies first. If you want to call me a war criminal for doing my job, then that is your, and anyone else who shares it, opinion. But I watched most of my unit die beside me as we took that moon, so don't accuse me of murder when I watched many Alliance soldiers murdered in kind by batarian mercenaries, pirates and criminals. And I most certainly make no apology for putting every batarian on that moon in the ground. Quite frankly, my men and I did the galaxy a favour."

There was a cleared throat behind him. Shepard smiled and gestured to the floor. "Perhaps another question?"

"Geez, Khalisah, I think you may have pissed him off a little," Emily whispered in her ear.

"It was a legitimate question!" she hissed in reply, "You've seen the same reports."

"Quite frankly, he's absolutely right. The batarians got exactly what they deserved."

She lost interest in the new conference after that, as most of the questions were rather dull and boring, hardly the hard-hitting investigative journalism she was in the game for. _His response to my question must have scared them all off._ It eventually wrapped up around ten minutes later, with Anderson thanking them for attending, before the four Alliance soldiers disappeared through the same side door they'd entered.

The reporters found themselves escorted to another room, where food and drink had been laid out, and to nearly all their surprise, the four men appeared fifteen minutes later, though this time it was an informal chat, and off the record, Hackett warning that lives would be made very uncomfortable if anything said within the room was reported.

She kept an eye on Shepard as he worked the room. There was no doubting he had an aura about him already. Not arrogant, just confident in himself. He appeared to be incredibly polite, though maybe a little serious. She had to remember that, despite all he'd been through already, he was still very much a young man. _His life is probably all about the service._

Then his eyes looked in her direction and he strode towards her. She met eyes and couldn't help but think _Wow._ Then he smiled, and she felt rather pathetic that her heart fluttered. _Get a grip, Khalisah. Do your job._

"Quite the question, Miss al-Jilani. Since we're off the record here, do you think I'm a war criminal?"

She had to admit, she might ask questions but she never shared her personal opinion. Even when hosting a broadcast, saying 'In the opinion of this reporter…' it was not always what she thought, but it would reflect either the views of the corporation she worked for, or the view of the people she interviewed.

"The reports that came out of Torfan do not make pleasant reading, Lieutenant."

"Shepard."

"Huh?"

"Call me Shepard. Everyone else does. So, the question. What do you think?"

"Honestly, while I don't think you're a war criminal, I do believe that you have some questions to answer in regards to what you did on Torfan."

That smile again. "Thank you, Miss al-Jilani. It's nice to hear an honest response for a change." He leaned in close to her _._ "The constant fawning does get annoying," he whispered.

"Trust me, the last thing you will get from me is that, Shepard."

Leaning back, he replied, "Well, if I ever have another interview or press conference, I can only look forward to another one or two of your cutting questions. Now, if you'll excuse me, I can't stand here and talk to you all afternoon. But have a pleasant evening."

"You too," she replied, actually meaning it.

She watched Shepard continue to work the room like he did it every day, Emily sidling to her side. "Wow, he really is something, isn't he?" Emily stated.

"What do you mean?"

"Handsome. Courageous. War hero. Confident. What's not to like? No wonder the Alliance brass appear to love him."

"He's too clean. There has to be skeletons in the closet somewhere."

"You're not going to…"

"What? Tear him down? He's not that special."

"It's called tall poppy syndrome, Khalisah. The Alliance need someone like him. We all do."

"No-one is whiter than white. We already have Torfan, where it's clear he let bloodlust, or a sense of vengeance take over. There has to be something else. No-one is that pure, not even a war hero."

Draining her glass, she set it down on the table, said goodbye to Emily, and made her departure. She was heading home. It was time to investigate anything and everything to do with one Lieutenant John Shepard.

* * *

 _A/N – Let me know what you think. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up but much will depend on how popular this proves to be._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N - Hey, hey! A second chapter! I now have an outline of where I want to go with this. Won't be a long story, only 15 chapters at most, and I won't be uploading too often, but I will finish it._

* * *

She spent weeks researching everything she could find and anything available in regards to one Lieutenant Shepard. And what she found disappointed if not angered her. There was nothing except the basics, and that was even after trawling the deepest, darkest points of the extranet. It was so threadbare, she convinced herself it was a cover up. The poster boy of the Alliance appeared to have no life whatsoever, whether within or outside the service. She believed it was one of two things: he was whiter than white and the model soldier the Alliance portrayed him to be, or that he had been involved is incidents that the Alliance wanted covered up.

She believed the latter far more than the former. There was no smoke without fire, and after Torfan, she knew the Alliance was covering up something. There were too many rumours, too many whispers, for there not to be truth behind them.

Tempted as she was to uncover the truth, she thought of visiting the office of Din Korlack, who she knew worked for the Shadow Broker. But no-one wanted to owe the Broker a favour, and obtaining information was expensive. Plus, she could end up paying for nothing. So she chose not to… at least for now.

In addition to her regular role, she slowly put together an opinion piece on Shepard, using the information from that press conference and anything she could find. And then she let the Alliance and him have it. Everything she wrote was little more than a smear, incredibly circumstantial, and could barely be proven, if at all. Reading it over time and again, she knew that, if he wanted, she could be sued for libel. But she was a journalist that had no problem telling the truth as she saw it, and was always ready to provide a forthright opinion, particularly on any matter regarding the Alliance. She didn't hate the Alliance, she just held them to account.

It took at least a week of writing and editing before she was finally happy with what she'd written, and once it was absolutely ready for publication, she had no hesitation sending it to her editor, along with any evidence she'd found. It wasn't as much as she would usually have to back up her column, but it would do. It took all of fifteen minutes for her omni-tool to beep.

"Khalisah."

"Jesus wept, Khalisah, are you trying to provoke a fight with the Alliance?"

"Look at the evidence, Paul. I know it's thin in places, but trust me, they're hiding something about him. And it's definitely about Torfan."

"Nothing but rumour and conjecture. You know the Alliance won't say a thing about it. Sure, it leaves us with plenty of questions, but they have stuck to their line since it was first reported." He paused before adding, "Khalisah, this is nothing but an attack piece on the golden boy of the Alliance. Are you prepared to deal with the fallout? We can only do so much to protect you."

"You think they'll come after me?"

"Perhaps not like how you're thinking. But there's enough here that, if he wanted to, they will try and sue."

"Will you print it?"

She heard the sigh, and the line remained silent for a good couple of minutes. She had to eventually cross her fingers. "It's a good piece of work, Khalisah. And the people need to hear and read different opinions. So it goes in but it will go in with the proviso that these are only your words, and not the words of the newspaper or the network. We need to cover ourselves with pieces like this."

She would have scoffed, but understood why. She was prepared for the reaction already. "That isn't a problem. I can handle it."

"Okay, it'll be in the paper the day after tomorrow. Front page."

"What?"

"A piece like this, despite its implications… It's front page stuff, Khalisah. Despite the content, I can see the work behind it. It's good, but jeez, I'm not looking forward to the reaction."

"Thanks, chief."

"Yeah, you'd better thank me. I expect a call from my boss the day it's up. See you tomorrow."

On the day of publication, she made sure to visit her office, and noticed the stares as she strode in. There were a few whispers by the time she opened her office door, taking a seat at her desk and looking out over the ward. She knew the piece would provoke significant reaction, and she knew at heart, most of it negative in her direction. But she stood by every word, and would continue to do so if required. She still gazing out when there was a knock, turning to see her editor in the doorway. She gestured to the seat as he closed the door and sat down.

"Nothing so far," he admitted, "But it's still early."

"If they have nothing to hide about Torfan, then they should come clean with what happened. And they should definitely come clean about Shepard."

"Will you be in all day?"

"I'm picking up that piece about the possibility of a human Spectre, so no plans to go out."

"Good, because I would expect a summons at some time or other."

"I'll be ready."

She kept to herself in the office most of the day. When wandering into the canteen for lunch, the entire room fell silent before a few people actually applauded her. She felt the blush creep up her neck as she simply nodded thanks in their direction. She thought reaction would have been entirely negative, even from her fellow journalists, but perhaps they at least recognised the work she'd put in. And the fact she'd shown no fear in giving her opinions and thoughts. That was their role. Ask the hard questions. Find the truth. And if people, organisations or governments wouldn't willingly provide the truth, then force them to give it. Occasionally it backfired, and she was still waiting for the fallout from her piece.

There was eventually no summons to her editor nor his superior. Instead, she received an email from the owner of the corporation, applauding her for such a hard hitting piece, though admitting they recognised the reaction would be fierce, but the network would provide what support they could. She could only thank them and feel a slight sense of relief.

Feeling in a rather chipper mood by the end of the day, she headed to one of her favourite bars, usually full of fellow journalists from across the galaxy. She heard comments again approaching the bar after walking inside, those from non-humans more positive than most, though she saw a few glares from her fellow humans, particularly those from Alliance Network News (ANN), which she considered little more than the propaganda channel for the Alliance. Little surprise really. Some people didn't like the Alliance and its soldiers being questioned so harshly. Ordering herself a G&T, she was happily sipping it, watching the vidscreens, when a voice grabbed her attention.

"It is in the opinion of this journalist that war crimes were committed on Torfan, perpetrated by the Alliance, the representatives of you, me and all of humanity. And further to that, Lieutenant John Shepard was personally involved in the commitment of these war crimes, and in fact was in charge of the unit that committed the most heinous of these crimes. And it is in the opinion of this journalist that, instead of being held as the so-called 'poster boy' of the Alliance, he should be brought forward in front of the people of the Alliance, the people he is meant to represent while wearing that uniform, and he should be made to answer for his crimes. Are these truly the people we want serving our interests? Do we want soldiers who will commit cold blooded murder in the navy and gold uniforms of our armed forces? This journalist questions the wisdom of the Alliance in remaining silent in the face of such questions. And it is the people that demand answers." The voice paused as Emily took a seat beside her at the bar, ordering herself a drink, before continuing. "Christ almighty, Khalisah! Are you trying to pick a fight with the Alliance?"

"Tell me that what I wrote was wrong?" she retorted, glaring at her fellow reporter.

"Not wrong. Just… It looks like a smear campaign. I asked before, so I'll ask again. What's your problem with Shepard?"

"It's nothing personal, Emily. I'm just doing my job. Asking questions. Searching for truth. And he and the Alliance have plenty to answer."

"Yeah, but there's asking questions and then what's been printed. You've pretty much called him a cold blooded murderer, and we both know there's more fiction than fact regarding anything to do with Torfan."

"Well, it's up to the Alliance to set the record straight then."

"No matter what, you definitely kicked a hornet's nest."

She had a couple of drinks with Emily, hearing one or two comments passed her way, while those from the ANN practically called her a traitor without using that word. She didn't mind. She'd been called far worse things before. Still, when wandering home that night, she did look around occasionally, wondering if she would be followed, but no-one gave her a second glance if passing.

It took the Alliance two days to finally respond to her article. She didn't know if they ever would or not, but silence in the face of such an article would presume at least some guilt. That's what people were like. She was in her office, busy working on another article when her editor rushed into her office and ordered her down to Alliance Headquarters for what she thought and sounded like a hastily arranged press conference. She wasted little time rushing to the Presidium, and when entering the hall, she noticed nearly every pair of eyes fall on her. She received some approving nods, but there were equal looks of disgust as well. She was more used to the latter, so actually appreciated the former. She took a seat front and centre as always, listening to the whispered conversations all around her. Everyone assumed the conference had been called to answer the claims, though she knew they were all wondering what exactly the Alliance would say. They could continue to deny, but she knew none of her fellow journalists would buy it. She hadn't cornered them, but they would have to come out swinging.

Admiral Hackett eventually strode out onto the stage, quickly getting himself comfortable behind the podium. He must have clicked a hidden button, as a flat-screen descended from the ceiling behind him. She watched his eyes take in the room before they fell on her. The blank look he returned was actually a little unnerving. She had been hoping to see Lieutenant Shepard stand before them again, but for now, it appeared it would only be the admiral. He cleared his throat and the room fell silent. There must have been at least a hundred journalists in the room, and not just humans, while behind were rows of camera's. She couldn't help a slight smile at the story she might have possibly created.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Before I begin, there is one small matter of business that I'll attend to first. The Alliance does not generally announce the news regarding the promotion of all its soldiers, but considering the… let's call it interest in this man, I figured I would share it. In recognition of his services to the Alliance, in regards to his single-handed defence of Elysium, and his bravery during the action on Torfan. John Shepard had been promoted to the rank of Commander of the Alliance Navy. For those wondering why he is not here today to perhaps answer your questions, he is currently on mission and is therefore not available."

That announcement certainly caused whispered conversations. She wasn't surprised at all. She knew the Alliance was protecting him.

Hackett cleared his throat again, waiting for silence. "Now, while the Alliance does not normally respond to claims raised in the various news publications across human and even alien space, the Alliance Navy and also the government agreed that, due to the nature of the vociferous claims in a recent publication, and the smear raised in the direction one of our most loyal and bravest soldiers, a reply is necessary. Now while I cannot go into great detail, as many issues still remain classified, I have been given the green light to give further detail, at least in regards to the actions of Torfan. As for Commander Shepard, I will only say this." He looked directly at her. "To accuse Commander John Shepard of being a war criminal leaves the serving men and women of the Alliance with a profound taste of disgust if this is the sort of tabloid journalism we can expect in regards to the role the Alliance Navy has in the galaxy and in the protection of humanity and its interests. That is not to say he is the perfect soldier. No soldier is. But a complete and thorough investigation was completed after events on Torfan, and Commander Shepard's actions caused no concern. In fact, he performed commendably, and bravely, in his role, and ensured the success of our operation."

He looked away from her, across the crowd. And then he tore her article to pieces. Hackett had charisma, intelligence, and a steely resolve. He took it apart, almost by the paragraph. He used the flat screen behind him to show the evidence they felt they could provide. A lot of it was limp-wristed and barely refuted her claims. But it didn't matter when Hackett had most of them in the palm of his hand. Once he was done, he didn't stand there looking smug. He simply gazed out across the crowd and asked for questions.

Her hand shot up immediately. He gestured for her to stand. "Khalisah…"

"I know who you are, Miss al-Jalani."

"Of course, Admiral. Now, my question. Why does the Alliance refuse to provide the death count of both Alliance and enemy combatants from events on Torfan? Are the figures so staggering, and shocking, that you simply cannot release them? And, two, how can the Alliance be sure that all deaths on Torfan can be considered combatants when it was a known staging point for the slavery operations within the batarian sphere of influence?"

"In regards to your first question, neither number has been provided for two reasons. Regarding the Alliance, there are still critically injured soldiers, who we hope will survive, but may soon pass. Until then, we will keep hold off reporting the figure, though families of the fallen have already been notified and services held across numerous planets. As for enemy combatants, we can only give an estimate, as it is known that retreating forces did take bodies with them. As for your second question, any slaves we could capture, we did. But the pirates and slaves spent as much time executing their slaves as fighting us, as they did not them falling into our hands."

"What about…"

"This will no doubt be a long answer and question session, Miss al-Jalani. And many of your colleagues will have questions of their own."

She could have argued, but a look in his eyes suggested she sit down, and sit down now. She didn't do it meekly, returning what she hoped was a defiant stare, though that only earned a smirk of amusement. The conference continued and it was predictably dull. One or two others did attempt to raise points from her article, but Hackett batted those back easily. All in all, it was nothing but a defeat, and once Hackett departed the stage, she couldn't help but slump in her chair.

"It could have been worse," Emily said beside her, "He could have called you an outright liar. But I think there was a subtle suggestion for you to retract your claims."

"Like hell I will. He's won this one. He won't win them all."

Returning to her office, she knew that the matter of Commander Shepard wouldn't go away. She'd keep digging into him, but after a meeting with her editor, she was told to put him to the back of her mind. There were other stories to cover, including rumours the Alliance was working alongside the Turian Hierarchy on a secret project. No-one knew what exactly, but the fact the former foes were now co-operating was big news. Ordered to let the Shepard issue go for the time being, she was tasked with finding out all she could about this project.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N – Time to make her a little more human, I think…_

* * *

In the end, her investigation was pointless as the Alliance and Turian Hierarchy jointly unveiled the ship they had built in co-operation with each other. It would fly Alliance colours, but had adopted numerous turian design features. And it would be called the _SSV Normandy_. The commanding officer would be Captain David Anderson, a name well known as he had failed to become the first human Spectre a couple of decades previously. His executive officer would be none other than Commander John Shepard. Other than that, apart from one or two other design features, the Alliance did not share what the Normandy would be doing or where it currently was. Then again, the Alliance never shared that level of detail, so it wasn't a real surprise.

But that wasn't her problem. At least, it was minor compared to a few more personal issues. In the weeks since that article, reaction had been entirely negative. She still had the support of the owner and her editor, but even her fellow journalists were giving her the cold shoulder. But it was only when she started to receive hate mail that she started to grow concerned. Receiving hate mail at her office was expected. She was well-known and it came with the territory. But when it started to arrive at her home, that's when she involved C-Sec. They insisted there was little they could do about anonymous letters, but they'd do what they could to help. She knew that meant practically nothing.

The hate mail came from everywhere. Little surprise many letters and messages arrived from Elysium, where Shepard was considered a hero. Hell, they were clamouring for a statue of the man to be built where he'd seen off the invasion. But letters poured in from everywhere. Mindoir, where everyone he knew and loved had been slaughtered, the colony only now beginning to get back on its feet. Letters even arrived from as far away as Earth, all in their support for the commander. None, absolutely none, supported her claims. It was only then that she felt very alone in the world. It even left her thinking 'Have I done the right thing?' She shook her head of those thoughts immediately. She would take on the entire galaxy to learn the truth. But was it worth her life? Some of the threats were explicit. And those are the ones that actually scared her.

She'd never felt more alone. She had few friends. Her rivalry with Emily Wong was generally friendly, and she was one of the few people she spoke to on a personal level. Her last boyfriend had thought her obsessed with the job and eventually left. She'd had a fling or two since, remembered more than one drunken snog with a woman, but she now felt more isolated than ever. Returning home to her empty apartment, she poured a glass of wine and made a call.

"Hello," the deep voice replied. She remembered silvery grey hair, a lined face but kind blue eyes. The last time she'd seen him, despite his age, he was still built like an ox.

"Hi, father."

"Khalisah! How are you, sweetheart?"

"Oh, you know, trying to solve the world's problems." The light laugh at the end was nothing but bitter.

"Is it that bad?" That was her father. She never quite lied to him, but she never wanted him to worry about her, but he always knew when she was upset. "Is it to do with that article you wrote?"

"I stand by everything I wrote, father. But…" She trailed off and sighed, "It's hard when everyone seems to hate you. I don't want everyone to like me, I'm not in it to win friends. But when you feel the glares, the hate, from even those you thought would at least respect you…"

"You sound like you're ready to give up, Khalisah. The little girl I remembered never gave up. She stood tall and proud, defiant in the face of adversity. She would certainly not let a few unkind words or harsh glares put her off her stride."

She felt weak as it was necessary to dry her eyes. "Ever felt like you were right, everyone else was wrong, but you end up questioning everything you thought you believed in to be true?"

"But there is also nothing wrong with admitting that you were in the wrong, Khalisah. That is what makes us human. Admitting our faults, and knowing when we were in error. The question is, at heart, do you believe you were right or wrong?"

"I'm not sure anymore," she said quietly, "I was so convinced I was onto something. Something big. I'm talking secrets that could tear down everything we thought we could trust. But either I'm up against something I just can't fight against and win, or I've never been so wrong in my life."

"Your continuous search for truth may lead you down difficult paths, Khalisah. Truth will always be worth the fight, but it must be truth itself, otherwise you will end up finding lies only you believe true. And that is worse than the printing and reporting of flagrant lies."

She couldn't help sniff and dry her eyes again. "Thank you, father."

"When you visit Earth again? Your mother would love to see you. Your brother is expecting another child soon too."

"I'm not sure, father. I would like to leave tomorrow, but… Work is always calling."

"You know the path to take, Khalisah. And no matter what, you've made us proud."

"Love you, father."

"And I love you, daughter. Goodnight."

"Night."

She closed the link and sat back on her couch, sipping at the wine as she looked out of the Ward. She always sought out her father for advice whenever life was difficult or threw a curveball in her direction. She was adamant still that she would print neither a retraction nor an apology for what she wrote. She knew there was an element of truth behind everything she wrote. But perhaps, just perhaps, she'd been too stubborn for her own good. She wasn't thinking of giving up. Not at all. Nor changing the way she operated. But she certainly had time for reflection and introspection as she sat alone on the couch, sipping at her wine, wondering what to do next.

Striding into her office the next morning, there was another pile of mail. The messages never came electronically. Too easy to track. No, they arrived the old fashioned way. Paper envelopes, paper letters, the use of pen and ink. She sat down and opened the first one, read the contents. The usual. Calling her a traitor. Calling her a whore. Calling her… every name under the sun really. There was a dozen that morning. It was time to own them. She stuck every single one to the board opposite her desk. Her editor strolled in ten minutes later and noticed, giving her a curious glance. "More fan mail? Don't you usually just bin them?"

"I will use them to remind myself that, despite that level of reaction, despite the very prospect that violence might be used against me because of what I write, I won't let them stop me. If people don't like to hear the truth, then that is on them, not me."

"So Commander Shepard?"

She sat back and thought about the conversation with her father the night before. "I believe there is an element of truth behind what I wrote. But…" She trailed off and met his eyes.

He nodded, understanding she couldn't actually say what she was thinking. "Know what you should try and do?" She shrugged. "Try and speak to the man himself."

That made her laugh. "He's most likely to give me a smack for what I wrote."

"Or you could find he's a pleasant young man who you have got wrong." He held up both hands. "I'm not saying you are wrong, but apart from a question and answer session with him, we know little about him. Maybe he would speak to you simply to set the record straight. Better talking to you than someone who'll just fawn over him. That way, you'll find the truth, whether it matches your expectations or not."

"Think the Alliance will go for that?"

"Maybe. Sure, you're probably not the most popular person with them at the moment, but they might actually go for an interview, simply in the hope he'll knock your entire argument against him and them away."

"Thanks, Chief."

"This must be a first. Khalisah al-Jalani requiring a pep-talk." That gave her another chuckle. "No matter what you write, Khalisah, as long as it's balanced and you can back it up with sources and evidence, I will have your back. Don't worry about the rest of them out there. The only important matter is the truth. So, what truth are you searching for now?"

"I'm going to keep my focus on this new ship. Very interesting. The fact the turians appear to be so heavily involved certainly raises a few questions too."

In addition to her normal duties, she researched the Normandy and kept tabs on Commander Shepard too. Purposely keeping her head down, the article she'd written was slowly but surely forgotten. Hate mail continued to come in, but even that dropped off. Her colleagues eventually appeared to forgive her, at least, though she found it hard to forgive them in return, but even she could understand. Emily had always remained friendly, the pair meeting at least once a week for lunch or a drink after work. Even Khalisah al-Jalani, hard-nosed journalist that she was, would admit it was nice having at least one friend she could rely on.

That was her life until the events of Eden Prime. An idyllic human colony, it was a breadbasket for humanity. It took forever for news to make it back to the Citadel about the attack. Once cameras were on the ground, the scene was horrific. Half the colony on fire, bodies everywhere, and in the middle of it all was the Normandy, according to the reports that started to filter through. The Alliance gave no information as to why the Normandy was there except it was present for 'relief efforts'. She smelled a story, so kept her focus on the Eden Prime attack, contacting all her sources, trying to find out who was behind it, why Eden Prime was attacked, and the role of the Normandy in the events.

So focused on that story, in addition to her regular duties and columns, that it took her editor to burst in one day with news that caused her mind to near explode. "You won't believe what the Council have just done!"

"What?"

"Shepard. They've made him a goddamned Spectre. The first human Spectre."

"How the hell did we miss this?"

"It's all been done in secret. No journalists allowed in. We've only got wind of it because Shepard's been seen around the Citadel in the past day in the company of human and non-human colleagues. He's just departed the Citadel with the Normandy, and Captain Anderson was not on board and is currently at the embassy."

She stood up immediately, grabbing her pad and handbag. "That's a story right there."

He handed her a small datapad. "Here is everything about the Normandy, including where it docks. I assume you're heading to the embassy first?" She nodded. "Sniff out what you can there, then camp yourself at the docks. If you can get hold of Shepard, find out whatever you can. This could be a huge story. First human Spectre."

"Why him?"

He just smirked. "That's a question you can ask the man yourself."

The embassy was quieter than she expected. A few Alliance personnel wandered past, and she could see bureaucrats standing around, chatting about heavens only knew what. She made straight for the ambassador's office, hoping to find Udina. If not, then perhaps Captain Anderson. She found the latter quite easily, in the cafeteria attached to the embassies. When his eyes met hers, she noticed the sigh but he didn't make to leave immediately.

"May I take a seat, Captain?" she asked politely. He nodded and gestured, so she took a seat. "Mind if I ask one or two questions?"

"I can assume who they'll be about," he replied before leaning forward, "I'm still not sure what your problem is, why you feel it necessary to bring the man down when all he's ever done is his job." He leaned back and shrugged. "Go ahead, ask your questions."

"Why are you no longer on the Normandy?"

"As Commander Shepard has been made a Spectre, it was decided he would need a ship to operate independently. The Alliance believed that the Normandy would provide him the means to do his job effectively."

"What is he doing now?"

"Currently classified. Commander Shepard may deem it appropriate to share at a later time."

"Why was he chosen to be a Spectre? Was it to do with events on Eden Prime?"

"We are not privy the thoughts processes of the Citadel Council. However, Commander Shepard was one of many human candidates to be the first human Spectre. Personally, I believe the Council made the right choice. Commander Shepard is a model soldier, but more importantly, a good man."

"Since humanity now has a Spectre, will the Alliance be offered a seat on the Council?"

"No idea, Miss al-Jilani. That's a question best aimed at Ambassador Udina, if not the Council itself." She watched him get to his feet. "I'm sure you think there's a story here, and there is one. Commander Shepard is the first human Spectre. It was a great day for the Alliance and humanity as a whole. With his promotion, many avenues of opportunity are now available to us. The Council will take us seriously now that one of our own represents not only us, but the Council species."

"What if he has to make a choice between his own people and them?"

"I believe Commander Shepard will make the right choice." She noticed he didn't say which choice would be right. "I have things to do, Miss al-Jilani. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course, Captain. Thank you for the answers."

It left her wanting more from the man himself. She figured the chances of him actually speaking her would be slim after the article she'd written, but she would take that chance. Leaving a message with a contact, she received information a couple of days later that the _Normandy_ was returning to the Citadel. She immediately went to the docks, camping out, ready for Shepard to make his appearance. It was late in the day when the ship must have finally docked and he appeared, noticing he was flanked by a couple of humans, an asari, a turian, a krogan, even a quarian.

"Commander Shepard!" she called.

His eyes fell upon her. She was expecting him to walk off and ignore her. Perhaps stride across and give her a slap. What she didn't expect was him to approach her, albeit cautiously, but he… smiled. He actually smiled at her. She didn't expect that at all. "Ah, Miss al-Jilani. I remember you, though how could I forget after a couple of your questions and a particular article you wrote about me."

"Read that, did you?"

"Of course. I'm not vain, but I was told your article was rather interesting."

"Not sure why you're talking to her, sir. She's nothing but trouble," the brunette woman behind him stated.

"Want me to handle this, Shepard?" the big krogan rumbled. She just met his eyes and the rumble turned to laughter. "Oh, she's got a mean streak, Shepard. Careful with this one."

"Commander, I was hoping you might be able to answer some questions for me?" she asked. She prayed she didn't sound hopeful or pleading.

He didn't reply right away. He did glance at his colleagues. All of them shook their heads. That wasn't a surprise. Looking back at her, his eyes met hers, and she could feel him judging her. To be honest, she didn't blame him after everything. He eventually gestured to a nearby table. "Okay, Miss al-Jilani."

"Khalisah. If you're agreeing, you might as well call me Khalisah, Commander."

She heard a couple of comments from his colleagues as they walked to the table, mostly suggesting it was a bad idea, and definitely not to trust her. His human male colleague went as far as to contact the Alliance before agreeing to the interview. Shepard waved them off, assuring them it was okay. Once they were sat down, she placed a small recorder on the table between them.

He was not easy to interview. But he was rather open. He was definitely intelligent, deftly handling most of her questions. And he was incredibly… She hated to admit it, but he was utterly charming, disarming most of her pointed questions with an easy smile and a thorough explanation, though recognised he left certain details rather vague. When pressed, he fell back upon standard responses, but one thing he never did was lie. He was almost unfailingly honest.

She hated the fact she believed everything he said.

By the end of the interview, she knew he'd 'won'. As he walked away, she couldn't help but slump in her seat. Shepard didn't make her life any easier but she knew she'd have to report the truth,

"Next time, Shepard," she muttered to herself before rising to her feet, beginning the walk back to her office.


	4. Chapter 4

Sitting across from her editor, she knew he'd support her as always, and she'd surprised herself by staying relatively neutral. Sure, she called into question his candidacy. She believed anyone who'd been promoted to such a position should have it questioned. And then there were questions about his role as a human as part of a galactic organisation. Who would he choose, humanity or aliens, if push came to shove?

The headline 'Commander Shepard: The Right Choice?' asked a simple question. She'd given her opinion for and against, laid out the arguments for both, and would let the reader decide. She knew her articles before about Shepard lingered in the memory of many people. She still received the occasional piece of hate mail, but after their interview a couple of weeks ago, opinion of her writing had changed. Some still thought she had an axe to grind, even people within her own organisation, but while she hadn't changed her actual tone, she had done her best to appear balanced.

"This is a good piece, Khalisah. Raising questions, giving opinions, and while it still has its bite, as I would expect, you haven't torn his reputation to shreds this time."

She shrugged, replying, "Think I've done that often enough now, boss. I'll only end up repeating myself. Trying a new angle, see if that works."

"Are you keeping tabs on him?"

"I have a friend or two at the docks. They'll message me if he shows his face but I'm not expecting him to be open to interviews all the time. Plus, I know Ms. Wong also has his ear."

He leaned forward. "It's a great piece as always, Khalisah. It goes in tomorrow. Front page."

That made her eyes widen. "Seriously?"

"Of course. While ANN fawn over the elevation of the 'Golden Boy' to being the first human Spectre, I believe we also have the right to question the decision."

"What's your personal opinion, chief?"

She watched him leaned back and chew over the question, as she was definitely in the minority. She didn't know if there were numerous candidates for the position, but she still questioned if he was the right choice in the end. "Considering his record, yes, I think it was a sensible decision. Of course, we don't have a list of candidates or anything. We have no idea who the Alliance selected to be a candidate." He cleared his throat. "But that's _my_ opinion, and what this organisation requires is balance and objectivity. And, despite one or two of your articles, I believe you are objective, Khalisah. You just share a different outlook compared to most."

She almost blushed, thinking there was a compliment somewhere. "Just doing my job, chief."

"Keep doing it, Khalisah. As I said, front page tomorrow."

The reaction to the article was as she expected. Those who supported Shepard completely without question hated it, and the hate mail flooded in quickly over the next few weeks. But she was almost glad to see one or two messages of support, thanking her for providing balance to the unending propaganda of the Alliance News Network. Or that's what it seemed like at times, the propaganda.

Seated at the bar of her favourite watering hole, she was joined by Emily as usual, who just had to recite part of the article as always. It was something she'd increasingly done. Khalisah wasn't sure if it was done for mockery or respect.

"The rise of Commander Shepard to Council Spectre raises questions about our role in the galaxy. As yet, the Alliance and humanity have no seat at the big table. The Council is still run by three alien races who consider humanity as nothing more than a junior partner. Yet the Alliance has one of the largest navies in the galaxy, soldiers serving on the very edges of space, and humanity is inextricably linked in to the fabric of a galaxy made up of numerous races. Most we are on friendly terms with, those we are not have learned not to trifle with humans.

Yet the elevation of Shepard to being a Spectre raises questions of the man himself. If push came to shove, if the Council asked of Shepard to perform a task that would harm humanity, where would his loyalties lie? To the Council and three races who do not seem to take humanity seriously? Or would he look down, see his skin, four fingers and a thumb, look to his side and see the numerous faces of those similar to him, and deny what the Council request?

There is so little known about the Spectre organisation that the simple fact they exist should cause concern. This journalist has investigated their reputation and history, and what was found should worry every race in the galaxy. It is reported that Spectres answer only to themselves. The Council will guide each Spectre but they are given carte blanche to perform whatever task they deem necessary, no matter the cost. This is where Shepard must be questioned. Do the ends always justify the means? We have already seen what Shepard is capable of regarding Torfan. Now that he is a Spectre, what is he truly capable of doing?

Having interviewed Commander Shepard recently, his answers were surprisingly honest if not blunt. While I believe he will have humanity's interests at heart, will he now obey his new Council overlords over his own species? That is a question he and everyone must now ask."

"You get a real kick out of doing that, don't you?"

Emily took a seat and ordered them both a drink first before replying. "Have to say, Khalisah, that's a slight change in tone. One or two digs at Shepard as always, but it looks like the Council is now in your crosshairs."

Taking a sip of the drink ordered, she mulled over how to reply. "As far as I was able to find out, Spectres are few, and the only members are from the three Council races. So if humanity now has a Spectre, does that mean we are close to being elevated to the fourth Council race? Or is it the Council just throwing us a bone to shut us up?"

"You don't trust them?"

"Do you?" she retorted.

Surprisingly, Emily chewed on the question for a while. "Well, each has their own motives, I guess. For all the talk of galactic harmony, the fact there are only three after thousands of years, considering all the other races, suggests a lot of self-interest. The difference is, humanity has burst onto the stage, and within only a couple of decades, our progress simply can't be ignored. Maybe having a Spectre is the first step towards being elevated?"

"Hmmm. Possible, but I have my doubts about the Council."

"Going to write a hit piece on them instead of Shepard?"

The sigh probably surprised Emily. "I'll admit it, he has out-witted me every time. I could keep writing articles about him, but while I don't care what people think, my editor does care about what I'm writing. And while he supports me for now, particularly regarding the new slant from the article, I don't think he'll appreciate me continuing to write about him just for the sake of it. I'll keep investigating, but I think I'll have to renew my focus, and the Council are a juicy target."

"Just be careful lest you find a Spectre on your arse."

That made her laugh. "I'm sure someone like me isn't given a thought."

Over the next few weeks, she found her object of criticism change from Shepard, who she investigated during lull periods, but instead she went in both barrels on the Council, primarily for the lack of progress made by humanity towards becoming a Council member. And boy, did it stir up a hornet's nest!

Letters from Ambassador Udina. Letters from Captain Anderson. Even a letter or two from members of the Alliance parliament itself. While none of them insisted she stop her platforming, there was a subtle enough edge to each that only made her more determined to continue. She'd spoken with Udina at most twice, and she thought the man a snake, simply serving to improve his own position, and humanity was just along for the ride.

She knew her best article was about calling into question the very existence of the Council itself, stating that any new member should have been immediately elevated to provide their own voice of reason. The fact there were only three members and the other races subservient to them spoke volumes of how the asari, turian and salarian people viewed all other races in the galaxy. She saved most of her ire for the asari. She cared little for the salarians, and thought the turian were nothing short of warmongers, but to say she despised the asari wouldn't be far off. She never let her personal views get in the way of a balanced article, but she let humanity, and anyone else in the galaxy, let her know what she thought of how the asari had moulded the Council and all the other species to what they desired.

It provoked a reaction and not one she expected.

She hadn't heard from her friend in the docks for a few weeks. She'd seen Shepard around once or twice at most, but he was always busy and, after that first interview, wasn't particularly keen to speak to her again. Whenever she did manage a question, he'd be polite but simply state "No comment." She wasn't aware of everything he was doing, but considering he was gone weeks at a time, she assumed he was traversing the galaxy.

It was late at night a couple of weeks after one of her hardest hitting article, an attack piece on the asari and their role in the Council, that led to a late night knock on her apartment door. After receiving hate mail, not just at her office but at her home, she'd taken extra steps in security. It would take a missile to now break down her door.

Looking through the peephole, she could only whisper to herself, "What the hell?"

There was another knock and she could only unlock the bolts and open the door. He waited until she stood to the side and gestured for him to walk in. She noticed him take off his cap and have a look around her rather sparse apartment. She didn't really consider it a home, just a place to rest before returning to the office. Sure, one or two decorations, and her awards for journalism took pride of place, but it was spartan compared to most apartments or households.

"Drink?"

"Coffee if you have some."

That made her laugh. "I live on the stuff. Take a seat on the couch, I'll make us a couple of brews." Walking into the kitchen, she boiled the kettle. "How do you take it?"

"Two sugars only. No milk." She almost grinned to herself as she took it the same way, figuring he needed the caffeine jolt to stay awake too. Returning with two large mugs, he was sitting back in the lone armchair, glancing around, no doubt taking in everything. She figured her place barely looked lived in.

"I can assume what you're here for, Commander."

"Shepard, Khalisah. You don't have to call me by rank all the time. And what do you assume I'm here for?"

She took a sip of coffee before replying. "The Council has sent their Spectre to warn off a journalist." That made him smile. In fact, she thought he was going to laugh, covering whatever would happen with a sip of his own. "Late night knock on the door, Shepard. I would have expected an early morning one, like the Gestapo or KGB. Escorted somewhere, bullet to the back of the head."

"The fact I didn't should suggest I'm not here on their behalf."

She mulled that over and couldn't help but agree. "Okay, that's fair. So why are you here?"

He took another sip before leaning forward, mug on the table, and met her eyes. "I am here to give you a warning, Khalisah. And it comes from me alone. Not the Council. Not the Alliance. I am aware of what you've written about me. And I'll be blunt. Water off a ducks back. You're entitled to your opinion. We live in a democracy, free speech and all that, at least regarding humans and the Alliance.

But you are playing with fire regarding your pieces on the Council. Trust me on this, you don't want to be in their crosshairs. They will make your life a living hell. Or they'll send another Spectre and you'll find yourself disappeared."

"They don't scare me."

"No, but they should. You've written a couple of pieces about the Spectres. What you uncovered doesn't even begin to describe what they are capable of."

"What about you, Shepard?"

"I'm here as a human giving advice to a fellow human, Khalisah. I'm here because I don't want to see a fellow human hurt. I see enough death as it is." The brutal honesty surprised her and it must have registered on her face. "What I'm doing, Khalisah, the things I've seen already. You have no idea what people, not just humans, but what any race is capable of. But, trust me on this, humanity can be just as cruel and evil as anyone else. The Council are no better nor worse than humans."

"And the asari?"

He nodded. "Sure, there's plenty of self-interest. But they formed the Council and, to be honest, their word is law until something big happens. They're not just going to hand over power without a fight."

"The people have a right to know the truth."

"And I agree with you. But this is an 'enemy', for want of a better word, you cannot defeat alone."

"And where does your allegiance lie now that you're a Spectre?"

She could see that question pissed him off. The glare nearly made her wilt but she returned her own determined look. "I wish to see humanity become the fourth Council race. And I can do that through my role as a Spectre." He leaned forward again. "But I can do my role as a Spectre while also looking after my fellow humans. Including certain journalists who like to provoke a reaction and, who at times, seemed to have a personal vendetta against me. As I said, that's your job."

"And you came here of your own free will?"

"No-one knows I'm here. As I said, I've read your articles. You've got talent, Khalisah. And you certainly raise plenty of questions. Gives me things to think about during downtime."

She had him picked as some sort of meathead, certainly not someone capable of critical analysis and depth of thought that he was suggesting. "Anything you care to mention now?"

The smile that appeared was another surprise, and the way it lit up his face, particularly his eyes… She had a reaction too, unable to return a slight grin of her own. "You don't know me at all except what you've read or perhaps heard, Khalisah. You need to get to know the man." She almost thought that was an invitation for… something else. "I can't do interviews all the time. The Council nor Alliance will approve. Keep writing about me if you want, but as I said, you don't know what goes on in here," he tapped his forehead, "Nor how I feel here," he placed a hand on his chest. "What I can say is that I will protect humanity's interests to the best of my ability but I will also work with the Council to ensure the galaxy for all of us is safe."

"So you're an idealist?"

"I'd like to say realist. The galaxy is a brutal place for most people. It is ugly, it is hard, and not all of us get to live in an apartment of the Citadel in relative luxury."

"Ouch."

He drained his mug and stood up. She did the same as he walked to the door. Opening it, he turned to face her. "I'm not going to suggest you take my advice, Khalisah. I know that isn't you. All I've done tonight is give you some advice. Keep writing the articles if you want, but dial it back a notch. Trust me, what you're writing is being noticed right now. There are a lot of unhappy people, and this door might not protect you from the worst of reactions."

"I had no idea you cared," she retorted, somewhat sarcastically. She surprised herself by immediately adding, "Sorry," and meant it.

"I do care, Khalisah. I want to read another one of your articles while I'm bored on my ship. And you can't be writing them if you're in some off the grid location because you've pissed off the wrong person or people. As I said, just some friendly advice from a fellow human to another."

"You know I'm going to write a little about what you told me."

He shrugged. "Figured you would but I haven't given away any secrets." He placed the cap back on his head. "Stay safe, Khalisah."

He said it with such meaning, she simply replied, "Thanks," before he turned and walked off down the hall. Closing the door, she made sure it was locked tight as always. After cleaning the mugs, she returned to the table and immediately started up her little terminal.

With ideas flowing, her fingers were soon flying across the keyboard. She would take his advice, and she couldn't help but appreciate he'd come to warn her off. But she was an award winning journalist, known for hard-hitting exposes. If the Council wanted to come after her guns blazing, they were welcome to try.

She had the first edition of her next article written with an hour, unable to prevent the smirk when thinking of the reaction of her editor the next morning.


End file.
